He set her on her feet with a laugh and tucked her hand through his arm, holding it firmly. “I may have to marry you just to keep the warriors away.” He stopped so that she would look up at him. “Unless you’re expecting to wake up anytime soon, Cat, it’s the only way to keep you safe here.”
“Did you find the tree?”
“Nay. But I did find where Cùram’s been staying. And I felt the energy of the tree, but I couldn’t seem to pin down its exact location.”
“You couldfeel it?”
He started walking again, keeping her hand tucked in his. “Aye. There was enough energy humming through the air to power an entire city.”
“Was it near Snow Mountain? Did you see the landslide that dammed up the river?”
“Aye, and I’ve already spoken with Niall about last night’s raid.” He stopped them again. “It was about a month ago that the landslide happened. And Daar thinks that’s when Cùram hid his tree, once he realized Daar was looking for it.”
“How did Cùram know he wanted it?”
Robbie started them walking again, waving his free hand at nothing. “Who knows? He’s supposed to be a young, cunning, powerfuldrùidh.”
“And Mary wasn’t any help?”
“She showed me where he’s been living. Anyone else would have missed it. He’s disguised it well.”
“But you didn’t see Cùram?”
“Nay,” he said, stopping them outside of Gwyneth and Ian’s hut. “I’m not joking about the wedding, Cat. It will still take me several days to find that tree, and the attempts to steal you for a wife won’t stop until you’re caught.”
“But don’t I have to say ‘I do’ or something?” she asked, wrinkling her nose and stepping away from his smell. “Doesn’t the marriage have to be consensual?”
“Not really. If your reputation is compromised, Niall can simply force you to marry.”
She took another step back, not from his smell this time but from the gleam in his eye, and shook her finger at him. “I’m not getting married,” she said with a curt nod, just to show she meant it. “Not even in my dreams.”
“Not even to someone you think you love?” he asked, matching her retreat with a step of his own.
“I told you that was a mistake,” she said, eyeing the lane and judging her chances of escaping.
But to where? That was the problem; she had no place to go. Her only hope was to wake up now. But when that didn’t happen and when Robbie read her intent and lunged toward her, Catherine turned with a squeak and took off down the lane.
Darn it, this washer dream, not his. She was not marrying Robbie MacBain just to fulfill his silly fantasy.
“Come here, you little cat!” he shouted as he ran after her, his voice sounding more amused than mad.
Within minutes, she left the village behind and was powering up the mountain path they’d traveled down just yesterday. Was it only yesterday? It felt like a month ago!
The sun had finally set, and the trail was deeply shadowed by the stingy light of dusk.
She could hear Robbie behind her, growing less amused and more angry every time he called her name. She kept looking for another path that turned toward the village, so that she could backtrack to Ian’s hut and be waiting for Robbie when he finally gave up the chase. It would serve him right for her to best him again, after locking her in her room last night.
Catherine nearly missed the narrow trail to her left. She grabbed a tree and spun around it, then darted up the even steeper path, only to slam straight into a huge horse that was more startled than she was. She fell backward with a yelp of surprise when the horse reared up, but large, bruising hands grabbed her before she could hit the ground and lifted her up, away from the flying hooves.
Her back was slammed against a hard, smelly chest, and she got dizzy when the horse she was sitting astride spun and started galloping up the path. Catherine slapped at her captor, but he simply tightened his beefy arm and squeezed the air out of her scream.
She heard shouts behind her and the sound of metal striking metal, and Catherine gasped at the realization that there was a swordfight going on back down the trail and that Robbie was right in the middle of it.
She dug her fingers into the arm holding her, then twisted and reached up to claw the guy’s face. But she went utterly still when she saw that the man wasn’t another MacKeage idiot trying to steal a wife—he was wearing a MacBain plaid. And Robbie was back there, fighting MacBains.
Oh, how foolish she’d been to run away. Ian had warned her that the MacBains were getting bold, and now Robbie was paying the price.
The sound of pounding hooves came galloping toward them. Catherine twisted to look around her captor and cried out in relief. There was just enough light for her to see Robbie break from the woods into the clearing behind them.
The MacBain warrior stopped and turned his horse to face the charge, and Robbie pulled his stolen horse to a stop. He held his sword in his left hand, its tip pointed at them, and looked angry enough to chew nails.
“Catherine,” he growled. “I want ya to fall forward and bury your face in the horse’s neck when I say so, and don’t move an inch, no matter what happens. Nod if ya understand, lass.”
She was trembling too hard to nod. Holy mother of God, she was caught in the middle of a swordfight.
Robbie advanced his horse when the MacBain warrior backed them away. “Do it now!”
She threw herself against the horse’s neck, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around it, squeezing so tightly she could actually feel the horse choke as the brute tightened his arm around her waist and charged. She was nearly dragged to the ground when her captor suddenly lost his seat with a shout, tumbled backward off the rump of his horse, and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Another arm snaked around her waist, and Catherine tightened her hold on her horse’s neck. “It’s me,” Robbie said with barely controlled anger. “Let go.”
Catherine opened her arms but kept her eyes closed as she sailed through the air and landed against Robbie’s familiar chest. She turned in his arms and clung to him as they galloped into the woods.
She waited for him to give her hell for running away, but he said nothing as they raced down the dark forest path that only he—and, she hoped, the horse—could see. Catherine could feel each bellowing breath Robbie took, his heart pounding against her cheek and his taut muscles flexing as he balanced them both with the skill of a man born in a saddle. Even a thirteenth-century saddle, apparently.
He stopped at Ian’s hut but didn’t dismount or loosen his grip on her. He said something in Gaelic when Ian came outside and then turned the horse and continued on to the keep.
Since he didn’t appear to have anything to say to her, Catherine decided she wasn’t going to apologize for running away or for getting stolen or even for nearly getting them killed.
He stopped outside the keep, dismounted, pulled her down to the ground, then took hold of her wrist in an unbreakable grip and towed her through the huge door. He led her to the blazing hearth and set her down on a stool beside it, giving her a pointed glare that said she had better stay put. He turned to the group of staring warriors, women, older children, and a dozen dogs and spoke in Gaelic.
Several of the women suddenly cheered, and quite a few of the men groaned loudly.
Niall got up from the table he’d been sitting at with several warriors and came over and pounded Robbie’s back with a smile.
Not ten minutes later, Catherine found herself standing beside Robbie MacBain, both of them facing a priest, with Ian beside Robbie and Gwyneth beside her and at least fifty people she didn’t know in attendance.
The ceremony was succinct, more spit than spoken, and Catherine never did get a chance to say “I do,” or even “I don’t,” for that matter.
The priest suddenly shut up and looked at Robbie. Mary silently flew down from the tall rafters of the great hall, as if appearing out of nowhere, and landed on Robbie’s shoulder. He held out his hand, and the snowy opened her beak and dropped two rings into his palm.